Page 105 of Last Night

I scour my memory banksfor a Susie reference to Tricia, and can only recall something about ‘a right pterodactyl’, but her aunt had fallen out with her father too so it’s not necessarily an endorsement of Fin’s opinion.

‘If my dad is staying at The Waldorf, of course,’ Fin is saying as I zone back in, checking his mirror at the lights, ‘he may have been shaky on the detail.’

‘His sense of direction seems completely sound though.’

‘True.’

‘My man on reception was going to warn me if he appeared!’ I say, for the sake of something to say.

‘Except your friend was one of at least five working the desk, on that shift alone. We had a one-in-five chance. Depending on the shift.’

‘True.’

We pull up and Fin hands the keys over and he nods at the revolving door to indicateyou first. For the first time in this trip, the tension feels as if it’s between us, no longer about its objective.

‘Where should we start?’ I say to Fin, as we survey the lobby, and Fin says: ‘Right there.’

Mr Hart is ten paces away in his coat, packed bag at his feet.

There’s no time to wonder if and how to introduce myself, as his face breaks into the warmth of instant recognition.

‘Eve?! Goodness, what are you doing here?’ he says, face wreathed in smiles.

It’s a sad irony that he’s losing his mind but physically he’s worn so well. He’s so little changed from the Central Casting, tall, responsible Mary Poppins father of my childhood memories. ‘And your young fellow,’ he says, acknowledging a mute Finlay.

‘Uhm … I’m Christmas shopping!’ I say, off the top of my head. ‘You?’

‘Came for a trip to see family, but I’m checking out now.’

‘You saw your brother?’ I ask, stupidly.

‘Yes, my brother and my sister are here. Couldn’t raise my brother at all, he seems to be away.’

‘Ah … How was your sister?’

‘Oh, same old, same old. What was that line fromFrasier? You’d get more warmth from a wedding buffet’s ice sculpture. Patricia could certainly keep the shrimp cold.’

I laugh, as much in surprise as mirth – his having Tricia’s number and remembering lines from old sitcoms. This is also the Mr Hart I remember – shaking out his paper and making affectionately acerbic remarks to Susie and me as we disappeared out the door, up to no good.

‘Now you’re back down to Nottingham?’ I say.

‘Yes, yes I am …’ he checks his watch. ‘If I get a clear run I think I’ll be back by tea time.’

‘Oh. What a coincidence, so are we?’ I say to Finlay, who nods. We’d expected to have to do some persuasion, we’d thought we’d be ahead of Mr Hart in this whole Edinburgh encounter game plan, and the reversal has left both of us gawping.

‘Race you!’ Mr Hart says, in jolly fashion. ‘Ah, thank you!’ as Waldorf staff appear.

‘Drive safely!’ I say, and watch uselessly as a white-gloved doorman signals he has his car keys. I look to Finlay for objection or confirmation and he raises, and drops, his shoulders.

‘Well, “Visit Scotland”, Operation Recover Iain Hart was a thunderous success?’ Fin says, as we watch his dad head for the revolving door. ‘I dread to think what would’ve happened without us being here.’

‘Should we try to stop him?’ I say.

Finlay shrugs. ‘He’s got a valid driving licence and the wish to go, and how are we getting his car back anyway? The main aim was to get him home again in one piece and having not signed up to any pyramid schemes. As far as we know, that’s going to be the case.’

The detachment in his tone tells me that the Finlay Hart who told me I could boss my life if I wanted, and showed me old photos on his phone, he’s gone, at least for now. The shutters have come down again. I took Tricia’s side by doubting him, it seems.

‘I guess so.’

---